


Thursday

by mrhiddles



Series: These Aren't Dark Times [High School Verse] [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Allusions to:, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Domestic Violence, Frigga being a good mom, Gen, Growing Pains, Growing Up, POV Frigga, Time Skips, nothing grizzly though don't worry, watching her son grow up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhiddles/pseuds/mrhiddles
Summary: “She doesn’t like her name, she told me to call her something else.”





	Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really enjoying writing in a series format! I have no idea why I never thought to do this before. This time it's from Frigga's point of view, watching Thor grow up, and watching Loki do so too as a result.
> 
> I didn't want to tag the "twist" because I really love the story I'm going with and I hope you'll be able to read between the lines so to speak with what is going on with Loki. And maybe where I'm going a little bit.
> 
> More soon!
> 
> Thank you for reading everyone! <3

The first time she sees Loki, Thor is six, grasping at her leg and pointing at his favorite brand of yogurt in the dairy aisle. She grabs the cheaper brand, same stuff, her boy won’t mind.

Thor pouts so she runs her fingers through his soft curls. Golden like hers, shines in the sun, like hers. He calms almost immediately. She bites the inside of her cheek, wondering if Odin will notice if she chooses the cheaper butter or not. Margarine is out of the question. Her jaw aches remembering what happened the last time she brought margarine home—

Frigga’s cart is jolted forward, and she yanks Thor aside, away from the woman who just rammed her cart into theirs.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry!” the woman half shouts through thin lips.

Her eyes are green, glassy, her black hair long with uneven bangs and wiry slick, hanging limp from her scalp.

And she smells, a funny orange tang, and Frigga knows exactly what’s running through her veins.

Frigga discreetly pulls Thor behind her, and that’s when she sees Loki. Smaller than Thor, with panicked eyes hiding behind the mother. A bruise dark under the little chin that quivers in a sure mix of anxiety and panic. Tries to push the frame of that same long dark hair in place to hide it but it’s too late for that.

Frigga sees a matching bruise on the woman’s arm and then she understands.

“No need to apologize, we didn’t see each other is all. Can I help you get anything?” Frigga asks, genuinely wondering.

The woman smiles and shakes her head, a sharp little jolt. Frigga watches as the woman snatches what she came for and leaves, dragging her child behind her.

Frigga puts the yogurt back, but she gets the real butter.

\--

It’s Thursday and her deposit is late that morning. The next ten hours are a combination of every terrible thing she never wants her son to experience again. That morning, she’d not bothered to call into her son’s school, figuring she’ll have time later, that maybe the fight won’t last so long this time.

She’s wrong.

Thor is eight when Frigga calls the police. She’s tired of fleeing, tired of fearing, tired of being all the things she never used to be.

And as her husband is dragged bodily from the front door of their twice mortgaged home, Thor stares up at her. And she recognizes her own eyes in his, knows the best thing she’s ever done and will ever do is give life to the sweet little boy squeezing her hand so tight it almost hurts. He isn’t crying about having seen his father arrested, his father handled into a police cruiser, or driven away. He only ever cried when Frigga was hurt.

Frigga isn’t hurt today. The EMT has to give her twenty-three stitches on her left shoulder, yes, but she’s smiling and she has her son, and she’ll never let anything or anyone harm him again.

Or herself for that matter.

It’s while sitting where they are, on the curb by the ambulance, the dark street filled with a rainbow of flashing lights that she sees Loki for the second time. That dark hair is shorter and Loki stares, hand gripping a small bag of groceries.

An officer approaches Loki. Asks, “What are you doing here? Come on, where’s home?” And Loki says, voice high, “Down this street.”

Loki is too eerily calm when addressing the officer and Frigga realizes then that the recent shouting and sirens they’d heard a week ago must have come from Loki’s house.

She wants to say something then, to the child. The child that was so scared in the store, that stares and speaks calmly to police like it’s the easiest thing for a child to do.

But Loki just stares at the ground and keeps walking.

\--

Thor is ten when he starts talking about the girl in class. He’s smitten and Frigga’s heart sings to see her boy so full of joy at just the sight of her.

Thor talks about her dark hair, about her _slightly wobbly knees in gym but she won’t let anyone make fun of her for it. I know—wait I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I don’t bully her, Mom!”_

Thor talks about her bright eyes during breakfast. Talks about how smart she is and knows all the answers when picked in class, _even when she doesn’t raise her hand!_

Thor talks about her painted nails as she drives him to school, _and it’s so cool, none of the other girls paint their nails black, Mom!_

If Frigga asks him about her as he’s opening the door to hop out, his face goes pink and she can’t help but grin at the embarrassed wide eyes he always gives her.

 _No, Mom! She might hear you!_ Then he’ll look around and dash off to class.

\--

Thor is twelve and eight days when he stops talking about the girl.

“What happened, love?” she asks him, trimming his hair one afternoon after school. She just paid the rent, and had to cancel the haircut he was scheduled for. She’ll do just fine, she knows.

Thor doesn’t answer her for a while. Looks down at his little hands and sees he’s picking at the skin around the nails.

“You’ll bleed,” she tells him, gentle.

He keeps picking. “She doesn’t want me to talk to her anymore.”

“Why not?” Frigga worries for a moment something’s happened.

Another moment and then a huff. “She doesn’t like her name, she told me to call her something else.”

Frigga keeps cutting, watching as little strings of blond fall to the tile of their kitchen floor in wet clumps. Her boy is sad, and it’s been a long time since she heard that in his voice.

“What else did she say?”

He doesn’t answer right away and so Frigga stops, sets down the scissors. She goes to crouch in front of him and isn’t surprised to see his bright blue eyes filled with tears. They always followed that sad voice.

“Thor?”

He meets her eyes. “That her name was stupid and she has a better one now. That her parents hate it and then she pinched me when I asked what it was and she ran away to where Sif was.”

“That doesn’t sound like she told you to never talk to her again.”

Thor sniffs and nods. “Maybe.”

She almost mourns the fact her son is starting to branch out but is more than happy he’s found someone he cares about enough to cry for.

Frigga wipes his tears away and finishes cutting his hair.

\--

It takes a few weeks of Thor moping around the house, not talking quite as much on the way to school, and several phone calls home to mom during his lunch period before things change again.

And just like that, one day he’s his usual bubbly self hopping into her car after school, eyes wide and smile huge.

“Mom! Loki gave me this today!” And then promptly pulls a frog out of his pocket.

Frigga doesn’t quite yelp when it immediately jumps on her, but it’s a close thing.

They drive to the closest pet store and pick up the cheapest supplies they need to keep the little thing.

After that, Frigga hears a lot about Loki.


End file.
